


Damn Hick Town

by lesbianscullies



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, nooo not me writing another bed sharing fic.....could not be me!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianscullies/pseuds/lesbianscullies
Summary: For the X-Files Secret Santa Exchange 2020! Mulder and Scully sharing a motel bed
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63
Collections: X-Files Secret Santa Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	Damn Hick Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SLScully21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLScully21/gifts).



> Thinks about how Mulder and Scully have such a deeply loving and kind relationship........cries  
> Anyway, my prompt for this time around was Mulder and Scully cuddling in a motel bed while they're on a case! Such a cute idea omg,,,  
> Also, I'm very sorry that I kind of misunderstood the prompt a bit at first so I'm really, really sorry if it isn't what you wanted but this is such a sweet idea and I'd love to revisit it!

He groaned, endlessly digging around in his suitcase for something, anything, to take away the pain. Aspirin, Tylenol, ibuprofen, he wasn’t picky. One would think Mulder would be prepared by now, having dealt with frequent headaches most of his life, but no, of course not. He took a moment to weigh his options. In D.C., there would be a 24-hour pharmacy or a convenience store down the block, unlike in this stupid hick town they were stuck in, though he wouldn’t’ve had this problem back home because he would’ve had a fully stocked medicine cabinet anyway. There was only one option left, something of a last resort, but he could not cope with the pain for much longer.

Picking up the motel phone, he dialed her number. She didn’t answer until the fifth ring. Clearly, she’d been asleep. It was late, after all. Scully rarely stayed up past 9:00 if she could help it. “Mulder, what’s wrong?” Her voice was laced with sleep and worry. “Sorry to bother you, Scully. I know it’s late, but I’ve got a killer headache. Do you have any pain killers?”

Less than a minute later, she was at his door. She knocked softly so as to not worsen his headache. He gave her a dull smile when he answered, one hand wrapped around the doorknob, the other pressing the heel of his hand hard to his temple. “Sit,” she ordered, walking to the bathroom. It was a bit hard to take her seriously, considering how mismatched she looked in her pajamas and high heels. She clearly hadn’t brought any other shoes. “My, my, Dr. Scully. Awfully bossy today, aren’t we?” He tried to grin at her, though it came out as more of a grimace. Even in tremendous pain, he still had the wherewithal to crack some stupid joke to annoy her. “Shut up, Mulder, or I’m going back to my room and taking the Tylenol with me.” This was an empty threat, and they both knew it, but it was enough to make him quiet down long enough for her to come back with a glass of water and two red and blue capsules. She ordered him out of his suit and rummaged through his suitcase to find him a clean t-shirt, pretending not to see the issues of Playboy hidden between the slacks and crisp, white undershirts.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I was fine with the painkillers.” “I know.”

She sat down next to him, legs crossed, and leaned him back so that his head was resting in her lap. She ran through various questions, when was the last time you ate, the last time you had something to drink, have you had any triggers, the usual. “Where does it hurt?” He motioned to his temples, and she started massaging them in slow, deep circles. “Little trick I picked up in college nursing everyone’s hangovers,” she confessed quietly, careful not to make too much noise. Her touch felt safe, and he could finally start to feel the tension break, absolutely certain that it was her doing and not the Tylenol’s. She stopped to stroke his hair, and he leaned into her touch like a cat. “Scully,” he said, voice quiet and strained, “will you hold me?”

She didn’t say anything at first and he was worried he might’ve finally done it, might've finally gone too far. She sat for a moment before taking off her heels and moving to rest on her side. “Come here, Mulder.” She didn’t say anything, only wrapping one arm around his middle, the other one returning to stroke his hair. “You’re a little small to be the big spoon, aren’t you, Scully?” he managed to laugh a bit through the pain. She didn’t say anything, only hummed groggily. “Scully? Tell me a story.” 

“Mulder, you’re a grown man. I’m not telling you a bedtime story. Just be quiet and go to sleep,” she mumbled. “Please, Scully? It can be anything.” She groaned but smiled against his back nonetheless. She couldn’t say no to him, so she talked. Aimlessly rambling about high school boyfriends, her siblings and Ahab, where she went for lunch last Tuesday and how bad the service was. Mulder was happy to listen. Somehow, even the most menial things sounded interesting when she spoke about them. It wasn’t very often that they talked, just talked, about anything and everything. Still, he felt that he knew her better than anyone, maybe better than she knew herself, but he still found himself surprised by the fact that his ever practical Dana Scully would ever get drunk and vomit in the back seat of a senior’s car in high school or get suspended for punching a boy in the face in sixth grade.

“—and my roommate came out with a fork in hand, threatening to stab the guy because he used to date her sister! Can you believe it?” She was finishing up a particularly entertaining story about a miserable first date in college when he first felt her shiver. “Scully, you’re cold. Get under the blankets.” She shook her head, stubborn to a fault. “No, Mulder. I’ll be okay.” “Fine then,” he said. Did she always have to be so damn difficult? He pulled the blankets up over himself and made a show of snuggling up in them, dramatically moaning. “Ah, Scully. You should try this. It feels amazing.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said, sheepishly joining him under the blankets, wrapping her arms around him once more. “Are you feeling any better?” He was, actually. The headache had mostly subsided, downgrading from a constant throbbing to a softer, more manageable ache. Scully had proven to be a great distraction from the pain, and he was grateful. “Yeah, a little.” She moved to place a quick peck on the back of his neck. “I’m glad. I was worried at first when you called,” she said softly, “worried that you might wake me up to go traipsing through the woods or to chase down Bigfoot or whatever theory you have for this case.” She was lying and they both knew it. She was worried something had happened to him. She was acutely aware that at any moment something could happen, and that she would lose him. He could be taken from her life without a second thought by some unknown force. Secretly, she was grateful that he’d called. Being able to touch him was grounding. They didn’t have to worry about anything right at that moment.

“I already told you, Scully, it isn’t Bigfoot. It’s the Fouke monster, a Bigfoot-like creature.” This time, instead of a kiss, she thumped him on the back of the neck. “Spooky,” she muttered, smiling.

He’d dragged her on a lot of cases. She was always following him, following some crazy lead. The hazy, humid Arkansas heat had knocked it out of her, but now the night was still, and all that could be heard were the cicadas outside and Mulder’s A/C that he had cranked up so damn high in an effort to battle the heat. “Have you showered yet, Mulder?” She felt him shake his head. “You should. The heat will help with whatever aches and pains you have, and you’ll feel better being clean. I know you were sweating like a pig out there. I saw the pit stains.” He cringed slightly at her words but dutifully obeyed. “Will you stay here?” He turned to give her his classic puppy eyes as he sat up. She nodded. “I won’t be long.”

…

He wasn’t surprised to find her curled up asleep when he came back into the room. Honestly, he was shocked she’d managed to stay awake this long. It was well past midnight. “Scully, wake up.” He could see her stir, mumble, and promptly roll over onto her other side. Out like a light. He considered carrying her back to her room himself but that didn’t seem wholly appropriate, and besides, he didn’t know where she might’ve put her key. Instead, he simply tucked her into the lumpy motel bed and allowed himself to stroke her head and gently kiss her soft auburn hair. He would let her sleep, he decided. She needed it. Tomorrow he would surprise her with rented fishing waders to go searching the swamps, and she would huff and act annoyed, but she would put them on and help, all the while muttering under her breath about how he is insane and wasting their time.

As he switched on the TV to some godawful local public access station, he thought about how grateful he was for her. Years ago, he’d been somewhat annoyed that he had been assigned some overly rational, goody-two-shoes babysitter. Yet now, somehow, she was the only person he could truly trust. Surely he would be dead without her, if not by some government force or his own (admittedly often reckless) actions, then because of that damn headache she’d once again saved him from. He reached over and grasped her hand, and she let out a sleepy little hum in response. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep, easy sleep while he clung to her for dear life.  
…

When Scully awoke the next morning, she felt a weight on her shoulder. She glanced to her left and saw Mulder’s head resting against her. “Mulder?” she mumbled groggily. He slowly blinked awake. “Good morning, sunshine.” He grinned at her. She bolted up out of bed, now wide awake. “Mulder, we are in so much trouble! Do you know what the rulebook says about—“ “Yes, Scully, I know what the rulebook says. Come back to bed, honeybunch.” He patted the spot where she’d been sleeping moments earlier, a cheesy grin on his face telling her he was absolutely trying to get a rise out of her. She flushed. “Mulder, stop!” He had no idea where her anxiety was coming from. This was by far the least serious offense committed by either agent. He rolled over on his back. “Come on, Scully, I think that headache is coming back. I think I might be in need of a kiss to make it better? At least, if the doctor says so.” She looked at him for a moment and then looked away before silently returning to the bed. She could argue aloud all she wanted, but she was still sleepy, and it was still early. They had nowhere to be until 9am, which gave her — gave them — a chance to rest a bit more. She had no idea what Mulder had planned for the day -- he had been very vague on the details. That was never a good sign. She pushed the thought to the back of her head, allowed him to wrap his arms around her once more, and buried her face in his chest. She breathed in his scent and smiled, hands clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt, and let herself fall back to sleep once again.

…

“You are so going to pay for this, Mulder!” Mulder's plan of searching through the swamp in rented fishing waders had not gone over as well as he’d hoped, and she had been less than pleased to spend the day floundering around in the muggy swamp. She had hardly spoken to him on the drive back to the motel save for a few short snaps. Mulder simply shrugged as Scully made a beeline for her room. Yes, it had been hot and humid, and yes, there had been snakes (which she was deathly afraid of). No, they had not found anything. This was simply another X-File. After changing and taking a much-needed shower, he sat down on the motel bed and flipped through TV channels before settling on some old movie he’d never seen. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. Glancing over at the clock, he saw that it was already a quarter to midnight. It was far too late for it to be Scully, he figured, forcing himself out of bed. He was more than a little surprised to see her standing there in her pajamas, looking almost meek and shuffling her feet. She was wearing heels again. “Scully? Is everything okay?” She nodded, still yet to say any actual words. “I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "I was thinking about last night and I...," she trailed off. He put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her in tight. "I'm sorry, Scully. Did I freak you out?" She shook her head. "No, Mulder, I just -- I don't know. Can I sleep in here again tonight?" He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Of course, Scully. Anything for you."

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr @x-files1993


End file.
